[Star Trek: Drabble] "Old-Fashioned Human Birthday" [G]
Title: Old-Fashioned Human Birthday
Prompt: writerverse challenge #01 October table of doom, prompt #08 ‘are you sure this is a good idea?’
Word Count: 372
Original/Fandom: Star Trek (TOS)
Character(s): James T. Kirk, Leonard McCoy, Spock, crew
Summary: “That’s the fifth time you’ve asked, Bones. And the answer’s still yes.”
Note(s): originally posted to the writerverse wv_library
Old-Fashioned Human Birthday
“Are you sure this is a good idea, Jim?” asked McCoy.
“That’s the fifth time you’ve asked, Bones,” said Kirk. “And the answer’s still yes.”
“Well, I think he’s gonna hate it,” the doctor argued. “He wouldn’t even let you give him the day off. Maybe he just wants to ignore it.”
The captain looked up from the streamers he’d been hanging. “Maybe he does, but we’re not going to let him. I’m sure a good old-fashioned human birthday party will be just what he needs.”
McCoy snorted. “We’re talking about Spock here, right? Pointy-eared, green-blooded, fan of logic? What part of an ‘old-fashioned human birthday party’ do you expect he’s going to like?”
“The part where his friends and shipmates are glad he was born,” said Kirk, tugging the streamers a little straighter. “Chapel is making plomeek soup again. Did you know she got the recipe from his mother?”
“And how did you know that?”
“I talked to his mother,” Kirk admitted, easily. “Haven’t you got that banner up yet, Bones?”
“I’m a doctor, not an interior decorator,” the other man complained. “Where is everybody else?”
As if on cue, there was a knock on the mess room door and it opened, admitting the rest of the bridge crew, with two noticeable exceptions, and a good number of other people, as well.
“Scotty,” called Kirk, over the sudden increase of noise, “come and help the good doctor. Sulu, report.”
“Chekov says he can delay Mr. Spock another ten minutes, at most,” the helmsman told him.
“Then we’d better hurry,” said Kirk. “Places, everyone!”
They had barely all gotten where they needed to be when the door opened again.
“Surprise!” they yelled, and Uhura added, “Happy birthday, Mr. Spock.”
He looked around at them. “Your effort is appreciated,” he said. “However, Vulcans do not celebrate birthdays.”
“But you’re half-human, Spock,” said Kirk. “And birthday parties aren’t just for the birthday boy, they’re also for his friends, to celebrate how important he is to them.”
“Very well,” said Spock, solemnly. “As I understand, random celebrations are often necessary to human emotional wellbeing, so I will consent to being the cause in this instance.”
Kirk grinned and nudged his shoulder. “That’s the spirit, Spock.”
THE END
Current Mood:
blah
Prompt: writerverse challenge #01 October table of doom, prompt #08 ‘are you sure this is a good idea?’
Word Count: 372
Original/Fandom: Star Trek (TOS)
Character(s): James T. Kirk, Leonard McCoy, Spock, crew
Summary: “That’s the fifth time you’ve asked, Bones. And the answer’s still yes.”
Note(s): originally posted to the writerverse wv_library
Old-Fashioned Human Birthday
“Are you sure this is a good idea, Jim?” asked McCoy.
“That’s the fifth time you’ve asked, Bones,” said Kirk. “And the answer’s still yes.”
“Well, I think he’s gonna hate it,” the doctor argued. “He wouldn’t even let you give him the day off. Maybe he just wants to ignore it.”
The captain looked up from the streamers he’d been hanging. “Maybe he does, but we’re not going to let him. I’m sure a good old-fashioned human birthday party will be just what he needs.”
McCoy snorted. “We’re talking about Spock here, right? Pointy-eared, green-blooded, fan of logic? What part of an ‘old-fashioned human birthday party’ do you expect he’s going to like?”
“The part where his friends and shipmates are glad he was born,” said Kirk, tugging the streamers a little straighter. “Chapel is making plomeek soup again. Did you know she got the recipe from his mother?”
“And how did you know that?”
“I talked to his mother,” Kirk admitted, easily. “Haven’t you got that banner up yet, Bones?”
“I’m a doctor, not an interior decorator,” the other man complained. “Where is everybody else?”
As if on cue, there was a knock on the mess room door and it opened, admitting the rest of the bridge crew, with two noticeable exceptions, and a good number of other people, as well.
“Scotty,” called Kirk, over the sudden increase of noise, “come and help the good doctor. Sulu, report.”
“Chekov says he can delay Mr. Spock another ten minutes, at most,” the helmsman told him.
“Then we’d better hurry,” said Kirk. “Places, everyone!”
They had barely all gotten where they needed to be when the door opened again.
“Surprise!” they yelled, and Uhura added, “Happy birthday, Mr. Spock.”
He looked around at them. “Your effort is appreciated,” he said. “However, Vulcans do not celebrate birthdays.”
“But you’re half-human, Spock,” said Kirk. “And birthday parties aren’t just for the birthday boy, they’re also for his friends, to celebrate how important he is to them.”
“Very well,” said Spock, solemnly. “As I understand, random celebrations are often necessary to human emotional wellbeing, so I will consent to being the cause in this instance.”
Kirk grinned and nudged his shoulder. “That’s the spirit, Spock.”
THE END
Current Mood:
blah